


Expecting The Unexpected

by saintroux



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Breathplay, Choking, Consensual Kink, Established Relationship, Feels, Kink Discovery, Multi, Polyamory, Unidentified NHL Season
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-14 07:21:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29414787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saintroux/pseuds/saintroux
Summary: Anya could just barely make out his hand in the dark, pressed palm open to Sid’s throat, tilting Sid’s chin up at what looked like an uncomfortable angle. For the barest moment her body tensed, ready to interrupt whatever testosterone-filled nonsense had them at ends. And then she saw it: Zhenya’s other hand snaked into Sid’s open fly, twisting slow and filthy. Sid thunked his head back against the wall and moaned.
Relationships: Anna Kasterova/Evgeni Malkin, Sidney Crosby/Anna Kasterova, Sidney Crosby/Anna Kasterova/Evgeni Malkin, Sidney Crosby/Evgeni Malkin
Comments: 7
Kudos: 87
Collections: Sid/Geno/Anna Exchange: Round 3





	Expecting The Unexpected

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nemorps](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nemorps/gifts).



> thank you to nemorps for the inspiring prompts! i tried to find a kink with little representation in hockey and hope this lives up to the hype and hits the buttons you were looking for.<3

Anya had never been a particularly deep sleeper. She often tossed and turned, waking up for seemingly no reason at all. Her mouth was overly dry. Her neck hurt. Her brain decided to fixate on some long-buried grievance deep into the night. 

Sometimes she awoke in the wee hours and accidentally gave Zhenya a nice face full of her limbs. Once she had even left a bruise, softly purple on the side of his forehead in the shape of a cracked egg. But this time when she flailed awake in the dark, the bed was just as empty as it had been when she’d gone to sleep a few hours before. It was cold, the covers showing no sign of Zhenya’s body. 

When she flipped her phone over on the nightstand and squinted at it, the display read just after one in the morning. She had a text from her mother. Nothing from Zhenya about coming home late or staying with Sid. Probably he had forgotten; it wasn’t unheard of. 

She flipped the phone back over and lay in bed for another few minutes, willing herself back to sleep. It rarely worked, but she could say she had tried. Maybe she would get up and check on the baby and walk around the house a few times until her body grew tired. 

When she shuffled down the hall to Nikita’s room and cracked the door he was blissfully asleep, lying on his back in his crib. She didn’t dare jinx it by walking further inside. With careful hands, she pulled the door shut again and padded down the stairs. The lacquered wood was cool under her bare feet, her footsteps echoing against the high ceiling of the foyer in this huge cavern of a house that she still wasn’t used to sometimes. 

In the kitchen she filled a glass of water and straightened the pile of unopened mail Zhenya had brought home from the rink and left on one corner of the island, mixed in with Anya’s grocery lists and a few wrapped candies. She watched a small bird settle on the window ledge over the sink, its eyes like tiny bright pinpricks in the dark night. Part of her felt wondered if the bird was as unwilling as she was to be awake at this hour, trying and failing to settle into the arms of sleep. 

Eventually she relented, put her glass upside down in the sink and headed back toward bed. But when she returned to the foyer she heard noises, soft like murmurs and coming from further down the hall. At first she thought she was imagining it, but the sound of voices grew more audible the closer she drew to Zhenya’s office. The door was shut; no light sliced through from underneath the jamb. Inside, Zhenya probably sat in his gaudy gaming chair, watching whatever it was he watched on his computer in the middle of the night when he thought Anya wasn’t looking his way. 

But when she opened the door, Zhenya’s computer was dark, the only light in the room the moonlight streaming in through the open curtains. Zhenya stood in the corner of the room, pressed up against the wall between a chair and a potted plant. She could barely see his face, just the long shape of him in profile hovering over another familiar body. 

Zhenya’s words were low and filled with too much English for her sleep-addled brain. Anya could just barely make out his hand in the dark, pressed palm open to Sid’s throat, tilting Sid’s chin up at what looked like an uncomfortable angle. For the barest moment her body tensed, ready to interrupt whatever testosterone-filled nonsense had them at ends. And then she saw it: Zhenya’s other hand snaked into Sid’s open fly, twisting slow and filthy. Sid thunked his head back against the wall and moaned. 

“Quiet,” Zhenya said to him. “No one wants to hear. Always so _noisy_.” His voice curled cruelly around the word like it did when he and Anya fought. His fingers tightened around the thick shape of Sid’s neck in time with the race of her heart. Anya was transfixed, her eyes glued to them. Everything about it screamed private. Police line, do not cross. She felt like her own throat was going tight. Sid’s hissed breaths grew louder and more labored as Zhenya leaned his weight into his hand, crushing Sid into the wall. The whole thing looked a little uncomfortable in a way that Anya couldn’t and maybe didn’t want to understand. Her body was at war between gawking or running away and instead she opened her stupid mouth and croaked, “I—sorry.” 

Two pairs of eyes turned to her in the dark, wide with alarm and confusion, waking her body up from its frozen stupor enough that she could slam the door shut and escape up the stairs. In the bedroom she stripped down again and lay atop the sheets, hand over her eyes, listening to the scattered pounding of her heart. Eventually she heard noises filtering through the house. Feet on the stairs. 

Beside her, the bed creaked and shifted as Zhenya’s body settled in, but no second body followed him. “Anya?” Zhenya asked. 

She closed her eyes and pretended to sleep.

///

When Anya woke in the morning she was alone in bed, the shower running loudly in the adjoining washroom, Zhenya’s off-key voice filtering through the door. She lay in bed and contemplated falling back asleep, but knew it was fruitless. She needed to get up.

Throwing leggings on under her sleep shirt, she padded out to the hall to grab Nikita from his crib, but found it empty. From the hall she could hear the soft sound a male voice filtering up the stairs. So Sid had stayed, then. She wasn’t sure why it surprised her so much, but it did. As she walked downstairs, she wondered idly whether Sid would want an apology. Did she _need_ to apologize? Did he? Anya wanted to think that she was open and accepting, but perhaps it was untrue. Thinking about Sid’s neck in Zhenya’s grip and his red cheeks made her clammy in a way she hadn’t ever felt with either of them, entirely out of her element. 

In the kitchen, Sid was making eggs, Nikita in his chair in the breakfast nook babbling away. Nikita smacked a few pieces of cereal off of the tray as Anya came into the room. 

“Morning,” Anya said to Sid like it was casual and mundane and she wasn’t all jumbled up. And then she went over to distract herself with her son, picking up bits of cereal and tapping them against Nikita’s cheeks before playfully placing them in her own mouth. Nikita frowned and babbled at her, reaching out his chubby fist to knock Anya in the mouth. 

“No!” he cried at her while his other hand flailed and knocked the spoon from his cup of yogurt, smearing it over the tray. Anya righted the spoon and held some cereal out for him to take. 

She looked up to find Sid watching them, spatula dangling from his hand. “Thank you for feeding him,” she said. 

“No problem,” Sid replied. The eggs started to smell a little overdone and she watched him rush to turn the burner off. “He’s easy.” 

Anya gave Nikita’s hair a few strokes and went to turn on the water kettle, standing in front of it to watch it boil and avoiding Sid’s searching eyes. When it was done, she poured herself a cup and plucked a sachet of tea out of the bin at random. 

“You want tea?” she asked, not looking up from her cup. 

“Hmm?” Clanking and clattering sounded throughout the kitchen as Sid rifled through the cupboard for a plate and silverware. The noises went quiet. “Oh, no. I’m fine.” 

For the barest moment, she thought perhaps they might not talk about it. Maybe they wouldn’t talk at _all_ , judging by how much they seemed to be tip-toeing around each other. Sid and Zhenya’s impending departure to the airport felt like it couldn’t come fast enough. 

But Sid didn’t stay quiet. “Listen,” he said. She could hear how close he was, and looked up to see that he’d rounded the island to stand just a few feet from her, his hip leaned against the counter’s edge. “About last night.” 

Anya looked at him, scanning his face for clues and saying nothing at all, because she wasn’t sure what would come out. 

Sid kept going. “I’m sorry we woke you up. I didn’t mean to—” 

Anya cut him off. “I’m already up,” she deflected, though it was the truth. They hadn’t been particularly loud; she was just nosy. “I shouldn’t walk in. It’s private.” 

“I assume you—saw,” Sid said, shoving a bite of egg in his mouth, which was his favorite way to talk when he was feeling unmoored, emboldened by the disguise of food garbling his speech. 

Anya blew across her tea to cool it. It made her feel naive to think she had never considered the idea at all even though she was on the other side of thirty. “Yeah, I—” Her gaze flicked between Sid’s face and his hand wrapped around his fork and her own hands like she was pleading with him to fill in the blanks. 

“I like it—” The words rushed out of Sid’s mouth. “If that’s what you’re asking. It was my idea.” 

“Okay,” Anya replied. At least it was one thing to stop wondering about, though it didn’t particularly give her any clarity on the whys or the whens. She took sips of her tea as she wondered how long they’d been—doing it. She knew that they’d slept together long before Anya had known either of them and, truth be told, there were still things between them that felt wholly obscured to Anya’s understanding. Whole days and weeks and years lived without her in them. She had never felt purposely left out, really. But she did now. “I never see you, um—you never ask. When I’m around.” 

Sid ate another massive bite of egg and scratched at the back of his neck. Anya watched his fingers fiddling with the chain there. “Yeah, no I,” he said. “I haven’t, that’s true.” 

“Is it—first time?” Anya said, though nothing about Zhenya’s sure grip or the way Sid sank into the hold told her it was. 

“No,” he said. “It’s definitely not the first time.” 

“Oh.” Maybe it shouldn’t matter so much, but it felt heavy. Like something picking at her, telling her that perhaps she wasn’t enough in some way, that they couldn’t trust her enough to share this part of them. Sid and Zhenya had predated her in each others lives and perhaps they would outlast her if she fell short. To part of her it seemed stupid. She and Zhenya had a _child_ for god’s sake. 

“I wasn’t trying to—” Sid started to say, but she cut him off. 

“You don’t want me to know?” 

Sid considered her. He looked like he was ready to navigate a field full of glass. “Well, I—” he began, and then paused and considered her again. He swallowed audibly. “Maybe. I don’t know.” 

And there it was. At least he had the decency to look embarrassed that he’d tried to hide it from her in the first place. It wasn’t the soothing she needed, but it was something. Acknowledgement. 

“Maybe I was a little—I don’t know if afraid is the right word, but,” Sid added, stirring the eggs around on his plate idly, the fork making an awful screeching sound with each drag. “If I said something about it and you freaked out? What then? I didn’t want things to change.” 

“What you mean, what then?” Anya said, clipped. “I’m not mad you do it, it’s like. It’s hurt you don’t say to me you want to do. You afraid to be left out? You leave me out.” 

“Yeah,” Sid said.

Still, it felt hard to reconcile the Sid she knew with the Sid she’d seen last night. To her, Sid always seemed steady and collected, headstrong, in control. He fucked her like he was setting up a play. He’d never been particularly aggressive with her per say, but he attacked each task at hand with dogged determination. She’d never seen him happy to relinquish much control. 

And yet he’d seemed so blissed out under Zhenya’s hands, giving and giving, letting Zhenya _push_ him, asking him to. She hadn’t known this apparently fundamental thing. And why? Because Sid was afraid she’d spook? Or judge? 

Behind then, Nikita was babbling away, his tray mostly cleared of cereal. Anya went to pick him up and moments later heard Zhenya’s footsteps. 

She could smell Zhenya’s cologne as he swanned into the room. He was in dress pants and his undershirt, his hair still a little damp from his shower. “You make food?” he asked, inspecting the empty skillet. 

“Here,” Sid told him. His voice returned at once to its regular timbre, no longer threaded through with hints of uncertainty. “Finish this. I made like six eggs.” 

Zhenya took the plate from his hands and tucked in without another word. He was perpetually running behind schedule in the morning and always tore through breakfast in a hurry, upturning a yogurt into his mouth or downing a banana on his way out the door. 

“Good morning to you too, Zhenya,” Anya said, bouncing Nikita on her hip. He was getting ridiculously heavy and she had to keep shifting around to get comfortable. 

Zhenya looked up at her with his mouth full of egg. Good god, why were men like this. “G’morning.” 

“What time you guys leave to airport?” she asked in English, because she knew it was more than likely Zhenya didn’t know. It was clear she and Sid’s earlier conversation was on hold now that Zhenya had arrived, clambering downstairs like it was any other day. No doubt he was leaving damage control to Sid. The day he shared his feelings with either of them without prodding would be the day hell froze over. 

Sid checked the time on his phone. “Probably like, fifteen minutes,” he said. 

Zhenya, still eating, looked at him askance. “I thought like thirty minutes, no? We leave soon we too early.” While he spoke he wandered to the fridge and opened a carton of orange juice, drinking it without even pouring a glass. 

“Would you stop that?” Anya asked him, for perhaps the hundredth and absolutely not the last time. 

Sid rinsed out his own cup and washed his hands. “I’m not letting you drive,” he told Zhenya flatly before heading for the hall. He walked past Anya on his way and gave her a tentative smile, reaching out to run a hand through Nikita’s hair. Just before he disappeared into the hall he stopped and turned to Zhenya, his smile pulled up on one side, playful, normal. “You better be ready by the time I’m back downstairs.” 

“Can’t believe,” Zhenya protested, like he thought Anya was somehow a captive audience for these complaints. She and Sid were entirely in sync on the topic. Zhenya’s driving skills were questionable at best and she only subjected herself to them when Nikita absolutely insisted on her sitting with him in the backseat. 

Nikita began to squirm in Anya’s grip, fussing. “You good?” she asked Zhenya. When she came over to him, he bent down and let her kiss his cheek. “I put your cufflinks in the pocket of your backpack, okay? Don’t forget.” 

“I won’t,” he told her, but she fully expected a frantic text about it while they were on the road.

By the time Anya changed Nikita’s diaper and settled him into his bed for a nap, Sid was waiting for Zhenya by the door, fully dressed and swaddled in his wooly winter coat. 

“We’re gonna be late,” he chided. Zhenya was fussing with his watch in the hallway as Anya descended the stairs. Zhenya was still wearing just his socks. She pulled Zhenya’s boots from the shoe bin and handed them to him. 

“Do as your captain says,” Anya teased. It was the kind of flirty joke usually shared between them, but it felt clumsy. She looked up at Sid after, watching his smile spread, the same awkward smile he’d given her in the kitchen. 

With Zhenya finally in all of his winter wear, she pulled him down for a kiss, tugging on the lapels of his jacket until he crouched. The soft buttery leather of his gloves stroked her neck and she had a fleeting thought of those same hands in the dark just hours before. 

“Don’t miss me too much,” she told him, and then nodded in Sid’s direction. “Don’t give him too much hassle.” It was what she always said to him, as regular as the ticking of the clock. 

“You gonna watch tomorrow night?” Zhenya asked. 

She nodded. “Katya is coming over. Girls night. Score for me.” 

Sid opened the door for Zhenya to step out, but once Zhenya passed the threshold, Sid stayed behind. He held his hand out for Anya to take and then dropped it like he’d forgotten what to do or say. 

“So,” he said, the uncertainty returning to his voice. He rocked back and forth on his heels. “Listen I—didn’t want to leave things like that.”

“It’s okay,” Anya reassured him, even though she wasn’t sure it was yet. But if he bombed the next few games because of her she would only feel worse. She closed the space between them and fingered the ends of his scarf. “We talk when you back, okay?”

She could tell he was worried, searching her face for clues of her distaste. “Yeah,” Sid said, nodding to himself. “Okay.” 

Anya wasn’t sure she’d ever seen him this shy around her, not even when she’d first met him and everything had been new. She ran her hand up his chest and cupped the curve of his cheek, looking back at him. “Good luck on road trip,” she said. 

He hesitated for a moment, but leaned in, brushing his lips just over the corner of her mouth. She turned her head into it, slotting their lips together, trying and failing to discern some answers from the taste of his tongue. _Why didn’t you tell me? Should I like it? You want me to like it, right?_

And then he was gone, tucked into the driver’s seat in his truck, his head craning to see the path down the long winding drive. 

Anya closed the door and stood against it for a moment just breathing.

///

With the team away, Anya slipped easily into the mundane routines of daily life. She woke early and drank her tea outside, bundled up in her winter coat on the swing. She watched Nikita run around on the concrete in his little sweatsuit and took far too many pictures of him that all looked the same but were each equally essential. They went to the store and she practiced her English with the local cashiers, her cheeks hot when she stumbled over the right words.

The following night, Katya came over with Milanka and brought Anya a much needed bottle of wine. They settled into the den with the children at their feet and turned the game on. Anya curled her feet up under her body. 

“Long season,” Katya remarked, taking a generous sip of wine and tossing her icy blonde hair over one shoulder. “Can’t believe it’s only January.” 

The team was doing okay as far as Anya knew, generally within playoff contention. But there’d been some kind of frustration recently and she’d heard Sid and Zhenya bitching to each other in the dining room late at night more than a few times. She tried not to pry, mostly because getting into it about hockey with either of them led to an entire seminar length diatribe on the topic.

“I really hope Zhenya scores tonight,” Anya said, just as Nikita started shouting and patting his hands against the screen. Zhenya zoomed across the camera’s view during the warmup montage and then the camera cut and Sid was there in frame, standing in the booth with his headset on. 

His whole face was already pink from exertion, sweat collecting in his hairline and shiny on screen. It wasn’t unlike the pink flush she’d seen on him the other night, blooming bright under the clutch of Zhenya’s palm, spreading up his face the same way it did in bed. She couldn’t stop thinking about it even though it made her squirm a little, unconfident and uncool because it was so new. Sid looked confident, at ease. It was always a bit jarring to see how easily he slipped into game mode like it was a suit of armor he put on over his usual clothes. But seeing private version of him peeking out from underneath always felt a little thrilling. 

“Pretty sure Max was going on about the same nonsense last week,” Katya commented, laughing at whatever Sid was saying on screen. Anya turned her gaze away. She hadn’t listened to a single word. “Shoot this, get around the traffic in front that. God, they really are all a broken record.” 

Anya laughed because it felt like she should, sipping from her wine and watching Nikita and Milanka chase each other around the carpet until they fell in a tumbled heap. Didn’t she know it. 

By the start of the first intermission, the Pens were up 2-1 and Anya was already a couple of glasses in, feeling loose and warm and a little daring. The tolerance she’d had pre-pregnancy seemed a thing of the very distant past, but it was nice to indulge sometimes. 

Katya poured them both another glass, giving the bottle a little shake as the dregs trickled out. “Katya,” Anya blurted before her brain could catch up to her mouth. “If you had to pick the wildest thing you’ve ever done in bed, what would it be?” 

“The—wildest?” Katya raised a brow at her and then chuckled, clearly recounting a memory. “Like, that I liked?” 

“I don’t know,” Anya said. “Sure.” 

“Letting someone tie my hands to my ankles, probably.” Katya was so matter of fact and cool about it that Anya nearly choked on a sip of wine. Nothing she’d done had ever gone past the customary wrists to the headboard or—once and only once—a too tight pair of Halloween handcuffs that had been a bitch to remove from Zhenya’s wrists. 

Anya shifted around in her seat as warmth squirmed around between her legs. “That sounds—precarious.” 

“No joke,” Katya snorted, downing a huge gulp of wine. “It was pretty hot though.” She re-situated herself until she was close enough to drop her voice into a whisper. “Just letting someone do what they wanted with me. Putting my trust in them.” 

“Yeah.” Anya considered it for a moment. “I can see that.” She wanted Sid to put his trust in her. To be good enough, ready enough. 

“Not like you need advice from me,” Katya said. She leveled Anya with a saucy look. “Considering you have _two_ men on your hands.” 

Anya snorted. That was one way to put it. 

“Seriously, though.” Katya put her chin in her hand like she was waiting for Anya to spill. But Anya didn’t spill, really. Not ever. She had already said more than she’d meant to by starting this conversation in the first place. “What’s it _like?_ You’ve gotta be sore all the time.”

“Katya—oh my _god_!” Anya took the hand that wasn’t holding her wine and swatted it in Katya’s direction. Good lord. “I’m not—it’s not like—” 

Somewhere behind them the kids were squealing, Nikita toddling uncertainly around as he tried to match Milanka’s strides through the maze of armchairs. 

Katya patted Anya on the knee. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding.” 

Anya flushed and turned her attention back to the television where a commercial about some cleaning product was playing for the thousandth time. The can of worms was already well and truly open and it wasn’t usually her style to share her innermost thoughts, but maybe— 

Anya took a long drink and then gingerly set her glass down in the cupholder so it wouldn’t jitter out of her grip. “Have you ever, like—has someone ever choked you?” 

She was very purposely staring at her nails and not looking at Katya while she said it, but she could hear Katya spluttering in response. When she dared a look, there were pink splotches of wine dotting Katya’s shirt. “Have I—” Katya coughed and coughed and then finally cleared her throat. “Is someone putting their hands on you?” Hands reached out and tugged at Anya’s neck, pushing her hair out of the way and manhandling her chin. 

“Not like _that_!” Anya crowed and pulled herself away from Katya’s curious grasp. “Calm _down_.” She swatted Katya’s arms back into her own orbit. “I meant like—in bed, okay? God I’m asking this all wrong.”

“Okay,” Katya said, drawn out, the tone of her voice and posture shifting from its lopsided drunken state. Her brow furrowed. “How did you—mean to ask it then?”

Anya picked at her cuticles. “If you found out that Max liked something but he’d been—hiding it from you. That would make you feel weird, right?” 

“Yeah.” She upturned the rest of her wine into her mouth and at this rate Anya was nearly certain she was going to have to make up the guest bed. “I mean, he wouldn’t, but. I’d probably be pretty weirded out by it.” 

Anya blew out a breath, long and slow through her nose. “Well I walked in on Sid and Zhenya a few nights ago and they were—doing that. Zhenya had him up against the wall and everything.” 

“Oh,” Katya said, her voice soft. “Jesus.” 

“Yeah” Anya said. “Hence my, uh—bringing it up.” 

“Did you talk about it?” Katya asked. 

“You think those two are going to _talk_ to me?” Anya asked, only a little bit kidding. “No, well—Sid and I spoke a little before they left yesterday, I guess. It’s more his thing than Zhenya’s from what I gather. He didn’t seem to _want_ to tell me, which was—” 

“Disheartening, yeah,” Katya filled in and then fell silent for a moment, considering. “I think I need another drink.” 

Anya sighed as she left, reliving the awkward feeling of Sid’s rejection. She looked at the clock below the television and saw the kids out of the corner of her eye, curled up together in one of the armchairs furthest from her, looking like they’d tuckered themselves out. Thank god, honestly. It was usually hell and a half to get Nikita to settle on game nights and Anya badly needed her own sleep. 

When Katya came back she had a full bottle from Anya’s stash in hand and the second period was already underway. Anya had the TV on quiet. She shushed Katya as she sat down, motioning to the kids sleeping behind them. Katya returned the gesture with an over-exaggerated thumbs up and offered Anya the wine, but Anya declined. Oversharing her embarrassing relationship issues during a girls night was definitely a sign that it was time to cut herself off. 

Either Katya didn’t think they were embarrassing or she truly was just incredibly nosy because at the next commercial she turned to Anya and leaned forward on the arm of her chair. “So how are you going to convince him that you should join in next time?”

“What?” Anya asked. “I mean, should I?” 

“Why not?” Katya shrugged and Anya truly envied her sometimes, her easygoing nature and spark of wildness. Being pragmatic and reserved had gotten Anya far in life, but it certainly had its drawbacks. “I mean, c’mon. I know you think it’s hot when they get all worked up. You don’t marry an athlete for a boring sex life, Anya. They didn’t tell you? So what. You know now.”

“True,” Anya said with a dry, sad laugh. “I just feel like I already fucked it up a little. I mean, I saw them and I ran away. I’m not exactly giving them a lot of reasons to think I can handle it here.” 

After the commercials ended, the camera panned to the benches as the commentators spoke, Sid and Zhenya at the center of the group, locked in conversation with their heads bent close. 

“I really think you should go for it,” Katya remarked, which was such a Katya thing to say and something Anya had heard many times before Katya got her and Maru into the best and most anxiety inducing kinds of trouble. “You know both of those men are incapable of getting out of their own heads.” Then her serious expression turned into a sly, lascivious grin and she nodded her head to the screen where Sid was hopping over the boards onto the ice. “I mean hell, if I had the chance to put my hands on that man’s neck, I’d certainly take it.” 

“That’s it,” Anya said, grabbing for the glass in Katya’s hand and the bottle balanced precariously in her cupholder. On screen, Sid lined up across from the opposing centerman and the camera closed in on his face. He slid his mouthguard in and out of his mouth and narrowed his eyes, and Anya hated that she found it obscene instead of disgusting. Her cheeks were on fire. “You’re cut off.”

///

The image swirled like a fog in Anya’s head. It was there with her in the morning and at pilates and when she went to bed. So what if she’d grown up a little sheltered and thought giving a hand job in a lounger at the pool was the height of horny thrill. Anya wasn’t too old to try new things, even if they were a little different. Sid could trust her with this.

The thing was, if she was going to do it, she was at least going to do it right. So a few nights later after her shower she pulled on her sleep shorts, opened her laptop and did some covert googling:

_choking_

_man being choked_

_what does it feel like to be choked_

Blog posts on the topic gave her the kind of boring information she already knew. It wasn’t always safe and required careful application and a soft hand. More than a few commenters said it made them _crazy_ or gave them release or helped them come. 

A quick search through a couple of tube sites got weird fast. There was a lot of latex. Like—a _lot_. She wondered if Sid and Zhenya were into that too and couldn’t really imagine it. All of it looked very planned and no one on the receiving end seemed particularly comfortable. Maybe that was the point? But Sid hadn’t looked uncomfortable under Zhenya’s grip and he seemed sure in his assertion that he _liked_ it, that it was something that did it for him the same way he loved the friction of sliding his dick over and over through Anya’s folds. 

Anya tried to watch one mostly because she was trying not to be judgmental about it, but barely five minutes in she was still dry and uncomfortable and had to hit pause. All she was imagining was Sid wearing too-tight latex all the way up to his chin and how much of a pain it would be to get it back off, which was more funny than titillating in pretty much every way. 

She was about to click out and abandon her research attempts when a related video pop-up caught her eye: a still of an attractive couple in some nondescript room, the man with his arm locked around the woman’s neck. When Anya hovered over the image it played a few seconds on loop. The man leaning in to mouth at the side of the woman’s hair, their hands snaked together inside her panties. The way her face went red and slack when his arm tightened its grip. 

It pleased her even more to see there were no latex bodysuits or collars or complicated head coverings in sight. 

A few minutes into watching Anya was squirming and going sticky between her thighs. She rolled her legs around under the sheets restlessly. The woman on screen had three fingers inside her. She reached down to grab the man’s arm and placed it on her chest, high up near her collar bone in a clear signal that said “yes.”

There was something about it, the way they talked with their eyes. The give and go, both of them riding intensity up and down like a wave. She couldn’t imagine herself in the woman’s shoes, but she felt drawn in nonetheless. 

The woman on screen flipped her partner over onto his back. She straddled him, dropping down on his cock until she groaned. Anya clenched around her own wetness and wished that she wasn’t so alone in this big house, that she and Sid and Zhenya were all watching together, exploring together. The woman put both hands over the man’s mouth as she rode him and something in Anya slotted neatly into place. Anya could imagine they were her hands over his lips. She could feel phantom breath against them, hot and foggy. 

She slid her hands into her sleep shorts and rubbed herself off roughly until she came, biting her lip to muffle her moans afraid that maybe the walls would hear. And know. 

So that was—something.

///

Zhenya called her from the road the following afternoon, the camera so close to his face that she could see a bruise under his right eye.

“Hi Jerry,” he said, smiling. 

“Did you just wake up?” Anya asked. Zhenya shook his head in response, but his cloudy eyes and mussed hair told her otherwise. The scene behind him was blurry, but she would bet a decent chunk of money he was still in bed. 

“You miss us?” Zhenya asked. Anya could hear a soft voice talking in the background of the call. Her heart beat quickly at the thought that it was Sid. 

“Maybe a little,” Anya admitted. The truth was, she didn’t love when they were on the road. The missed bedtimes, coordinating schedules across timezones. She’d given up a lot to move to North America, and sometimes there were still things it lacked. 

“We leave pretty early tomorrow,” Zhenya said. “Earlier than I want to wake up, but I think we’ll be home before dinner.” He shifted around in bed, tucking pillows behind himself and balancing the phone on his knees so Anya had a full view. 

Anya settled into her own chair. “Want anything special for dinner?” 

Zhenya considered it. Sid’s voice came somewhere from out of frame and Zhenya turned to him, showing Anya the sweet shape of his profile. “That’s Anna? Tell her I’ll literally do anything for that eggplant bake again. That thing was so good.” 

Anya laughed and wondered if Sid would come to say hello and if he would look as soft and freshly-woken as Zhenya did. Maybe his hair was curling over his forehead in uneven cowlicks. Usually he slept without a shirt. 

“Can’t believe he understands your questions now,” Zhenya said, smirking at Anya through the screen and then back at Sid somewhere beyond the camera. “We’ll have to invent a new language to keep him out of our secret plans.”

“Tell him to stop being rude and come say hello,” she said, her chest tight to think she hadn’t seen or spoken to Sid beyond a few cursory good luck texts since he’d left her in the foyer. But he’d been in her dreams, under her and at her mercy in a way that felt new and thrilling and terrible. 

The camera shifted as he came into frame, shoving Zhenya over on the bed. He was bare-chested like Anya had expected, heat flush covering his collarbone. His hair was damp from what Anya assumed was a recent shower. 

“Hi,” she said awkwardly. What did it say about her that she looked straight at his neck where the light was hitting it, searching? Maybe they hadn’t been napping at all. Had they been—

“Excited to come home tomorrow,” Sid said, scrunching his face up, running a hand through his hair. “It’s been a long trip.” 

“Too long,” Anya agreed, fully hating the small talk and ready for the awkward thread between them to be over. Hopefully she could make it so. 

They prattled on a little more about the upcoming game and Nikita’s adventures eating snow on the lawn, staying firmly clear of serious and volatile topics because there was not an easy way to just blurt over the phone how much you couldn’t get someone’s no-longer-secret kink out of your head. 

Zhenya popped back into frame as Anya was spacing out on the way Sid nervously licked his lips. “Do you want the coach to spank us? Stop making us late, Jerry.” He leaned his full weight against Sid and the camera went sideways. 

“Think you want to be spanked,” Anya said in English, her tight chest easing at the sight of Sid and Zhenya wrestling for the phone. 

“No!” she heard Zhenya shout. 

“Score tonight!” Anya told them before climbing out of her lounge chair and ending the call. She had things to do and a plan to put in motion. “Don’t miss your plane!”

///

Anya went to Whole Foods and bought definitively more groceries than she needed for a party of three. She got out one of the really good aromatherapy melts that she could only buy in Moscow and hoarded and soaked in the tub for a solid hour.

Sid and Zhenya were due to be home around five. By two she had Nikita and enough baby supplies for a whole week in Mrs. Birman’s living room with a promise to pick him up in the morning. By half-past four she was chopping salad ingredients in an old pair of ripped jeans at the kitchen island, dinner in the oven and music blasting from the bluetooth speaker over the sink. 

She missed the door opening and closing and Zhenya and Sid discarding their gear while her head was buried in the fridge.

“Smells good,” Zhenya said, walking over to the oven and bending down to peer inside. 

“Fuck,” Anya shouted, nearly smacking her forehead on the fridge door in surprise. “Jesus, you scared me. Hi.” 

“I say hello when we come in,” Zhenya explained in English. Anya closed the fridge and saw Sid lingering in the doorway behind it with a box in his hand. She gave him a small, tight smile. “You can’t hear?” 

Anya went over to the speaker and turned the volume down. “Sorry,” she said, gesturing to it apologetically. 

“Want help?” Sid asked, nodding toward the veggies strewn across the island. “I brought cookies.” He set the box down on the counter and Anya recognized it: takeout from the team plane. “Chocolate chip.” 

“Thanks. And sure,” Anya said, opening the container and sneaking a peek. She needed to keep him busy so he wouldn’t try to talk. It was her who was going to hold the reins. “I’ll go—need to change.” 

Sid shucked his zip-up and came over to wash his hands. “Change?” he asked over the rushing water. He looked Anya up and down and she could feel his eyes on her like a phantom touch. “I like what you’re wearing.” 

She looked down at her outfit and grimaced. She had a sauce stain on her shirt, but the v was low enough that Sid could probably see the swell of her boobs. “Go chop,” she tutted at him and went to change into something with slightly less holes. 

By the time she descended the stairs again, Zhenya was distributing plates in the dining room, a bundle of flatware in his fist. “Niki sleeping?” he asked, looking to Nikita’s highchair in the corner. “Need me to set up his chair?” 

“He’s with Val and George,” Anya said, smoothing her hands over her pants, nervous and hoping for things to go well. She came over and Zhenya bent down to give her a kiss, the flatware clanking together. “Parents all alone tonight.” 

Zhenya regarded her curiously as he set down the final plate, like he could see through her and absolutely under no circumstances was going to bring it up until she did. Anya smiled softly at him and went on into the kitchen where Sid had the salad fully chopped and in its serving bowl. She watched his back flex slightly as he tapped away at his phone. 

“Hey,” she said as she walked over to grab a towel and pull dinner from the oven.

“Oh,” Sid said, startled. She watched him card a hand through his hair like he always did when he was a little nervous. He pointed down at the finished salad with its lush greens and shiny tomato slices arranged just so. “Did you want dressing on this?” 

“In fridge,” Anya said. The eggplant bake smelled delightful as she pulled it out of the cooling oven, a gust of steamy, garlicky air hitting her in the face. “Bottom right shelf in door.” 

“That smells good,” Sid remarked as he rooted through the fridge. “Fuck, I’m so hungry.” 

“Five minutes,” Anya said and closed the oven door. 

They ate together at one end of the table, watching the dark sky through the windows. Anya crossed and uncrossed her legs, trying to decide how and when to broach the topic. Perhaps she would wait until after dessert. Zhenya’s eyes stayed on her from his seat across the table. He could smell that she was up to something and she knew it. 

Sid leaned back in his chair when he was finished, patting his belly with a hollow thump. “Compliments to the chef,” he said, throwing Anya a lopsided smile. It was cheesy and terrible and everything she couldn’t help but love in a man. Years of her life had been dedicated to finding the exact opposite: smooth, polished, charming. Neither Zhenya nor Sid were smooth or polished. They were awfully stubborn. Deeply focused on their work in a way that was probably considered unhealthy. But she loved them. And she wanted them both to trust her. To share things with her. To stick around. 

“I tell them you say,” Anya replied. She pushed her food around on her plate, struggling to finish it when her stomach felt like one big knot of ‘what if’. She’d felt somewhat confident the evening before, walking around the house armed with thrilling new intel and damp panties. The cat had indulged its curiosity and come out on top, ready to face the day. But now she only wondered if she would stumble. If perhaps she wouldn’t be so thrilled. If she did it wrong. If neither of them actually wanted to trust her with this. Their thing. 

She grabbed her half-empty plate and glass and rose to stand, gesturing to the empties. “Done?” 

Zhenya still had his fork in his mouth. Sid rose to follow her, grabbing whatever he could carry and maybe a little more. “I’ll help,” he said. 

At the sink they moved around each other awkwardly, a mirror of how they’d been that first morning. “Want me to dry?” Sid asked, just as Anya opened her own mouth to say, “How was the road?” They locked eyes and Sid laughed, shuffling past her to grab a towel from the drawer, heat radiating from his body to hers as their shirts brushed. 

“It was alright,” Sid said with a shrug. The team had come home with a winning record, but only barely. “You watch?”

“A little,” Anya said, trying a lighthearted approach. She lifted one shoulder and quirked her mouth, mirroring his unimpressed shrug.

Sid dried the salad bowl for longer than was strictly necessary and then set it atop the fridge. She watched him do that hair-scrubbing thing again. He was going to get a bald spot if he kept it up. Jesus. She needed to just spit it out. Timing be damned. 

“Listen, I—” Anya stopped the water and turned to him, heart beating fast and making her voice pitchy “I want to say something. Not long, but. Just listen, okay?”

“Okay,” Sid replied, clearly seeing the determined set of her mouth. He stood up a little straighter and folded his hands. 

“I think about while you gone, what I see the other day,” Anya said, speaking carefully so she wouldn’t trip over her own internal translator. “I want to do. With you. Want you _trust_ me to do.” 

“Oh,” Sid said. He looked a bit taken aback by her forwardness. “You—” 

Anya plowed on, buoyed by her own nerves. “I want,” she reiterated, her hands growing more animated as she went on. “You say you don’t tell me because you afraid maybe I don’t like. And maybe I don’t know at first, true, but. I want to.” 

“I don’t want you doing this if it’s just for me,” Sid said. There was a deep groove in his brow, frustration and concern. He shook his head. “You didn’t sign up for that.”

“Sign up for? How you know what I sign up for?” Anya could see bits of him retreating into his initial fears and wanted to keep them in the open. “You think I know everything about Zhenya when I marry him? No.” Sid tried to stuff a hand into his front pocket and Anya snatched it before it could slide inside, holding it in her own. “I sign up for you. That’s it. Maybe I want to do for you. Maybe I _like_ if it’s for you.” 

Sid was silent for a long moment, staring down at their joined hands. He looked back to the doorway and then blew out a long breath. “I—Sorry.”

“Yes, sorry.” Anya wanted to hammer it home. “Don’t want to be left out, Sid. You want? We try together.” He stroked her fingers with his thumb and it felt like fuel. She could do this. She was saying the right things. “Maybe I ask you something you don’t do before—what you do?” 

“I would—try, probably,” Sid said, grimacing like he felt a bit embarrassed. “Fair.” It always pleased Anya how he took to her arguments, considering at the very least, even if it took her ages to draw out his true feelings. “You know, I didn’t think you’d—”

“You think I’m too vanilla,” Anya finished, because it was clear he did think that. And maybe it was a little true sometimes, but she wasn’t mincing words. 

“No, c’mon,” Sid said, his grimace turning into a frown. He pulled his hand from hers and came in close, both hands bracketing her hips, fully back in squabble mode now that they were on somewhat even ground. “That’s not what I said.” 

“You say!” Anya griped, watching his nostrils flare. 

Zhenya chose that moment to come into the room with his plate, making a whole lot of ruckus as he barreled toward the sink. “You guys come in here to make out?” he asked in English, a cheap attempt at humor. “Eat cookies without me? So _slow_.” He halted when he noticed Anya’s frown, the tension smacking him clear across the face. “Oh.” 

“Come here, Zhenya,” Anya said when she saw him try to turn around. He wasn’t getting out of this. Zhenya looked between Anya and Sid as he rounded the island, tail between his legs. Once he was within range, Anya reached out to grab his hand, holding them all in a strange tangle of limbs between the island and the sink. 

“Everything—okay?” Zhenya asked, though Anya knew it was mostly to prompt either of them to speak. It was clear that he’d been leaving himself out of these conversations largely on purpose. The walls here weren’t thick. It was unlikely he hadn’t heard. 

“Sid and I talking about what you do,” Anya said, speaking in her stumbled English only so Sid wouldn’t think they were sharing secrets. “When you think I’m not see.” Zhenya’s hand was warm in hers, steady. “I assume he tell you we talk about?” 

Zhenya nodded, which confirmed why he’d been giving Anya a wide berth, even through the phone, letting her and Sid sort things out. She and Sid’s relationship had its own connecting threads now, its own foibles. But Zhenya was between them in many ways, their confidant, their man to share. 

“I want to do with you,” Anya said. She held Zhenya’s gaze, squeezing his hand, thinking about that same hand around Sid’s neck, over his mouth. How big it was. Sturdy. “You show me?” 

Zhenya looked to Sid. “It’s what you want?” And it was clear who held the reins here, no matter what it had looked like from Anya’s view. Sid was calling the shots. 

Sid looked between them. He ran a hand up Anya’s side where he was gripping her and reached out to scratch Zhenya on the curve of his jaw. “Yeah,” Sid said. “Let’s try.”

///

They left the dishes soaking in the sink and went upstairs, Anya first with Sid and Zhenya following behind. Sid kept running his hand up and down Zhenya’s back on the stairs and slowing their pace. Anya paused on the landing and put one hand on her hip. “Stop mess around,” she complained, the nervous line of her mouth turning into a familiar smile.

In the hall outside the master bedroom, Sid tucked Anya into the wall, bracketing his arms around her body and leaning in to kiss her. “Sorry,” he said, kissing her mouth and her cheek and her ear. 

“Yes, again,” she said and smiled as his mouth slid back over her lips, his tongue sweeping out to brush over her teeth. “Keep say to me.” Zhenya leaned against the wall beside her, his big, warm hand tugging her shirt out from where it was tucked into her pants. His head came down to rest on her shoulder and she could feel his nervous grin. 

“You stop messing around,” he whispered lowly, in Russian so only she could hear. 

Anya nudged them both inside until they fell backwards on the bed. “How should we—” Sid began to ask, but let Anya cut him off. 

“Sit. Wait,” she said and bent over to take off her socks. Her hair was tugged out of its knot as she climbed onto the bed, knee walking to join them where they both sat against the headboard. She thought about the couple in the video and how they’d built up the intensity like a wave and wanted that, a slow exploratory climb to the peak. They had time, for once. This deserved time. 

Zhenya pulled her into a kiss when she came to them, his palms on either side of her cheeks, fingers in her hair. “I stood up for you, you know,” he whispered. “When he was fretting over it.”

“Oh did you?” Anya asked and rucked her own hand up under Zhenya’s shirt to touch his stomach. 

Zhenya murmured an affirmative sound into her mouth. “I told him he should tell you. But you know how he is. Very stubborn.” 

Anya snorted. She could feels bits of her nerves seeping out of her like sap from a tree. “It must take one to know one,” she said. 

From beside her, Anya felt Sid shifting and he touched her leg, encouraging her to slot it over his own. “I know you’re talking about me,” he said and she could hear the amusement in his voice. Anya pulled her mouth from Zhenya’s and looked at Sid, his head lilted to the side, his small smile. 

“Hush,” she told him, bringing a hand up to cover his mouth. “We only say nice thing.” When she went to pull her hand away, Sid held it there, his fingers gripping her wrist lightly as if to challenge her. He lay a light kiss to her palm and her whole body went hot, her blood simmering. This was it, the real thing. 

Anya felt determined, spreading her fingers and kissing Sid’s mouth through the gaps. Zhenya’s hand snaked down her body and inside her pants, dragging over her clit through her underwear. She could feel him breathing, hot and wet, his head tucked close. The hand not in Anya’s pants snuck around Sid’s shoulders, covering the whole of his neck, and Sid’s body sagged. 

“He’s cute like this,” Zhenya said in Anya’s ear to her returning nod. His fingers worked her more purposefully until she was squirming over Sid’s leg. “Lemme show you.” 

Anya backed up then, tucking her legs under her at the foot of the bed. She watched the lamplight roll over their bodies as they rearranged themselves and unbuttoned her shirt, leaving it hanging loose, the lace of her bra exposed. Shadows shrouded their slow kissing from good view, but Anya stared, rapt and filled with so much anticipation for what was to come. Zhenya’s hands skimmed Sid’s waist, pushing Sid’s shirt up and up, and Anya loved watching each sumptuous inch of skin as it was revealed, skin that would be under her soon.

“Closer,” Zhenya said, encouraging her to return to his side as his hand slid up Sid’s bare torso to his throat. When Anya obliged, he rubbed his hand up and down, tilting Sid’s head back. “Like this first. It’s like, soft. Just little.” 

Sid was looking down his nose at her and Anya caught his eye, the hand resting near her leg touching the waistband of her pants and then sliding back down, over and over like a soothing caress. When Zhenya spoke again, Sid began fumbling with the button, undoing it and pushing his hand past the barrier of her underwear to where she was warm and slick. 

“When we first do I’m so nervous,” Zhenya said. “Like, what if it’s hurt? I don’t get, you know. I don’t trust myself.” His thumb and forefinger tucked themselves under the thick curve of Sid’s jaw, his grip so wide that Anya wasn’t even sure she could replicate it. 

Anya groaned from the motions of Sid’s hand. Sid was so still in a way she rarely saw him, only the muscles in his arm working as he touched her, the rest of him pliable under Zhenya the way she often saw Zhenya go pliable under him. “You see like this, right? Other day?” Zhenya asked her. “Watch what happens when I press.” 

He pressed down, his fingers contracting. Inside Anya’s underwear, Sid’s hand went limp. His eyes slipped closed. 

“See,” Zhenya said. “Maybe I don’t trust myself, but he trust me.” 

Trust was what Anya wanted from him, from both of them. She couldn’t replace the decade of knowing between them. But she would try and try to open them up, to fumble through new and terrifying and exciting things together. Fuck up together. 

Zhenya took his hand from Sid’s neck and put it on Anya’s shoulder without warning, kissing her as he pushed her to the bed, pawing at her open shirt and pulling her breasts from the cups of her bra. Close behind him, Sid followed with his mouth. She could see him over the curve of Zhenya’s shoulder laying a kiss to Zhenya’s neck while he wrestled with his socks and tried to tug off his jeans. When Sid was down to his underwear, he reached a hand out to scratch it through Anya’s loose hair. 

Anya only registered Zhenya wrestling her pants down when she felt the room’s cool air hit her thighs. He slid her underwear to the side, putting one finger inside her and then another, rubbing them between her folds to collect the wetness there. 

“Jesus,” she said, when he bent down to fit his mouth over her. She could tell what he was doing, buttering her up like he always did when she got itchy and awkward in bed. Beside her, Sid was watching them, fully erect in his underwear, half on and half off the bed. She pinched the soft skin of his hip to get him to come toward her. 

“Hey,” he said dumbly when he was near enough for Anya to feel the heat of him. He carded his wide hand through her hair and cupped it around the back of her head. 

“Hey,” Anya replied, holding his gaze while she touched him through the thin fabric of his briefs, rolling his dick and balls around in her palm. “Take these off.” 

When he obliged, she leaned over to suck him into her mouth, hand on his hip to keep him close. He tasted salty and familiar and she’d _missed_ him. It was hard to keep up a good rhythm with the distraction of Zhenya working her over, but Sid didn’t seem to mind, clenching and unclenching his fingers in her hair as she sucked him without finesse. 

“Can’t wait to be under you,” he said at one point and she could feel herself clench around Zhenya’s hand in response. “I’ve thought about it.” 

Anya pulled off of his dick and let it slide against her cheek as she dug her nose into his groin. “Why you wait, then?” she asked, laying a small bite there in the crease of his thigh. “Stupid.” 

“That’s me,” Sid said. He tucked his hand under her chin and guided her to look at him. He was smiling, a pretty dopey smile by all accounts. Anya loved it. “Stupid.”

Anya cursed as Zhenya gave her a last suck on her clit and pulled off of her, and then cursed again as he tugged Sid’s face down for a kiss. Watching them share the taste of her never got old.

She took the moment of distraction to push her underwear down her legs and undo her bra, flinging them both across the room toward the hamper. Both Zhenya and Sid were staring at her when she glanced back at them, opening ogling. Zhenya’s shirt was off now, Sid’s hands undoing his jeans as Zhenya spoke to him. “How you want?” she heard Zhenya ask him, low enough that she could barely make it out. 

“C’mere,” Sid said, and tugged her in, sitting back and allowing Anya to sit naked in his lap where he was hard and warm. There it was, Anya thought, as he kissed her hungrily, the intensity ramping up with each swipe of his tongue. 

Sid told Zhenya to sit at the head of the bed and then he dragged Anya with him, scooting them both up into the open cradle of Zhenya’s long legs while Anya dripped all over his dick. 

Zhenya directed Sid down a little until his head nestled against Zhenya’s midsection. Anya dropped her hands onto Sid’s chest to keep her balance and bent forward to give Zhenya a sloppy kiss. “Ready?” he asked her in Russian.

She nodded. 

Sid’s hands stroked up her spread thighs and down to her pussy. “Let me inside you,” he said, nudging at her folds where they were nestled over the head of him. “Fuck. Wanna feel you while we—” 

“Always so bossy,” Zhenya said to Anya, tucking his hand around Sid’s neck and directing Sid’s gaze up to his face. “All talk.” Sid’s fingers kept nudging her and she felt like she was going a little out of her mind with how much she wanted and how much there was to take. She readjusted and slid Sid’s dick inside her body like he’d asked, bottoming out without warning because feeling the stretch of him filling her was one of her favorite things. She groaned at the twin sensations of his dick pulsing inside and how hot it was to watch his eyes rolling back in his head. 

Anya rode him like that, grinding in his lap with her weight pitched forward on his chest, the best angle for her clit to rub in mind-numbing waves against his skin. Zhenya kept leaning down to kiss him, his hand a steady weight over Sid’s neck. 

“Anya,” Zhenya said and her eyes snapped up to meet his. Zhenya looked down at Sid watching them and Anya’s gaze followed. Zhenya’s hand had loosened, both hands cupped now around Sid’s head, thumbs stroking the corner of Sid’s flushed mouth. “Put your hand.” 

Anya’s hands shook as she moved them up Sid’s sweaty torso, dragging up over his nipples and collarbones until her fingers met the slightly stubbled skin under his jaw. Her hips were still, his length deep inside her. Flashes of the woman from the video with her hands sliding over her partner’s mouth came and went in her head. 

“C’mon,” Sid said, watching her intently with his calculating gaze. “I want you to.” His hands gripped her hips, holding her. 

She’d touched Sid so many times, intimately and all over, but nothing felt quite as intimate as fitting her hands over the thick shape of his neck while she looked him in the eye. Slowly, she let her weight shift into her hands, careful to keep it to where her fingers caged his pulse points and away from the front of his throat. 

“Like that,” Zhenya said, egging her on. His fingers tucked her hair around the back of one ear. “Keep move. You keep ride him like this he lose his mind.” 

Anya’s resumed movements were rewarded with a moan that she could feel vibrating up Sid’s throat under the touch of her hands. She felt powerful and terrible above him; and so good, closer to climax than she had any right to be. She just needed—

“Use it,” Sid whispered. One of Zhenya’s thumbs had slipped into his mouth and he had his teeth loose around the digit, mouthing at it absently. “Want you to come on me, fuck, Anna.” His cheeks were so flushed, pink to match his mouth. Anya watched them as she quickened her pace, rolling herself down on him over and over. She’d done that. _Her_. 

Zhenya kept making a playful shushing noise at him, but he wouldn’t shut up, even under the pressure of Anya's hands. She could feel his throat bobbing each time he swallowed. “Fuck, fuck,” Sid whispered. “That’s so hot.” 

“Maybe you don’t talk,” Zhenya said, sliding his thumbs from Sid’s mouth and fitting his hands over it where it was hanging slick and open. “Just feel her. It feels so good. I know.” 

Just watching Zhenya’s huge hands muffling Sid’s moans made Anya burn and it only took a few more thrusts to put her over, her orgasm seeping out of her in thick, warm waves. 

Zhenya craned his head forward to mouth wetly at her ear as she rode it out. “So good, Anya,” he said. “You’re so good.” 

When her brain came back online, Sid was watching her with a blissed out look on his face. Her hands had slumped to the sheets on either side of his head. His mouth peeked out in pink strips through the loose cage of Zhenya’s hands. Inside her, he was still so hard, pulsing a little. 

“You close?” she asked him, trying to catch her breath. She could feel that he was. “What you want?” 

“Anything,” Sid dragged his hand from its death grip on her hip and swiped a thumb over her lower lip. He looked awed. “Gimme this?” 

Anya flushed. It still felt dirty sometimes sucking him off once he’d been inside of her, tasting herself from his skin. She dislodged and slid down his body, watching them both watching her take him in. Sid threaded a hand into her hair. 

He was so wet in her mouth, leaking precome and damp all over his groin from Anya’s orgasm and their combined sweat. Anya looked up at his face as she sucked the warm skin, watched Zhenya’s hand curl over Sid’s neck again, watching Sid’s arms lift up to tug Zhenya out from behind him, up and over until Zhenya’s ass was in Anya’s eye line and he was sitting his full weight on Sid’s chest. 

“Up to something?” she asked, licking up the length of Sid’s cock and then taking him down to the root. 

“Maybe,” Sid replied. His voice was low and worn still and Anya flushed with how much it turned her on to know she’d had a hand in it. It felt secret, shared and naughty. She wanted to send him out in public with that hitch in his voice and _know_. 

When she took Sid’s dick into her mouth again in earnest, she could hear the wet sound of he and Zhenya’s kisses, Zhenya’s low murmuring. 

“You want?” Zhenya was asking him. “It’s what makes you come?” 

In the quiet, dim silence of the room, everything about this felt so damn filthy, Sid’s dick hot and twitching in her mouth, the clench of Zhenya’s ass as he fed his dick into Sid’s. For a moment she just lay there twisting her hand up and down Sid’s wet shaft, listening to him gag and groan around Zhenya’s length. Anya could picture his face, the ruddy color of his cheeks and the pink O of his mouth, trusting Zhenya to be as un-careful as Sid wanted him to be and no more. Trusting them both. 

“Want you to come, Sid,” Anya said, and when he did it was with barely a warning, just a muffled moan around Zhenya that Anya could scarcely make out, his release sliding across Anya’s lips and up his stomach. She mouthed at him until he went too sensitive and tried to curl away and then climbed behind Zhenya and peered drowsily over his shoulder. 

“Hi,” she said to Sid’s strung out face. Zhenya’s dick was indeed between his lips, only a couple of inches or so peeking out near the base. Anya tucked her hand there, pressing it in further until her fingers touched Sid’s mouth, knowing he would take what was offered. “Let him,” she told him. 

Zhenya took it as permission to really go for it and he thrust into Sid’s mouth without care, rutting and rutting until he seated himself fully and came, deep enough in Sid’s throat that Sid was tonguing Anya’s hand. Anya felt Zhenya sag against her and she manhandled his heavy body back and to the side until they weren’t at risk of crushing Sid’s ribs in their lazy, uncoordinated state of dick-drunkenness. 

“Fuck,” Sid said, coughing a little and sitting up on his elbows. “Wow.” He was pink and blotchy from his thighs to his hairline. His mouth looked wrecked. Anya crawled over Zhenya’s body and sat between Sid’s legs. She held her hair up in her fist to cool her neck. 

“You okay?” she asked. “You need—” She spotted a fingerprint bruise high up on his neck under his jaw and she reached a hand out to brush over it, marveling at how the shape fit her hand. 

Sid’s gaze was still far away when he looked at her. “Huh?” 

“You good?” she asked again, feeling perhaps a little nervous that things had gone too far. 

“Oh,” he said. “Nah. I’m great.” His words were slurred. He pulled her in, tugging her wrist until she was tucked into his side. On the other side of his body Zhenya was draped dramatically with one arm over his head, already halfway to sleep. Anya laughed, which caused Sid’s eyes to follow hers and then he laughed in turn. She slapped a hand over his mouth to quiet him. 

“Can’t believe we wore _him_ out,” Sid whispered against her palm, rolling his eyes. 

“Old man,” Anya said. She slipped her hand away and studied the lines of Sid’s face, dragging her thumb across it and hovering it over the curve of his lower lip.

“Whatcha thinking?” Sid asked, smiling against her fingers. “I see the gears turning in there.” 

“Thank you,” Anya said. She schooled her face into a more serious expression. “You trusting me.” 

Sid ducked his head and kissed Anya’s fingers. His lashes were like small dusty fans against his cheeks. “Maybe I was being a little stubborn,” he admitted. 

“Maybe lot stubborn,” she replied, softly. “Don’t keep from me.” Her body warmed all over with love as Sid nodded into her hand. “I know it’s not same as Zhenya with us, we not dumb kids. Can’t make up ten years. But we do new thing together, okay? All of us.” 

“Yeah,” Sid whispered. 

“You just what I expect,” Anya said, hoping she would get through to him once and for all. “What I sign up for.” 

“You think?” Sid replied, smiling that lopsided, gummy smile he liked to use when he was telling a particularly bad joke. “Maybe I’ll surprise you.” 

“Surprise?” Anya scrunched her nose up at him fondly, leaning into his shoulder to give him a small kiss and feeling her eyes droop with much-needed lazy sleep. “I’ll wait.”

fin


End file.
